Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
You’d think a relationship that ended in divorce would be long past the point of affecting Clay, but I guess that’s not the case.
And since I’m not a nosy asshole, I leave him to stew in whatever it is he’s cooking up in his mind and head back to my truck to get another keg. I don’t know all the details of the Clay and Josie saga, but I know enough to know he’s not quite over it. Not over her.
I also know that Josie pretty much hates him.
But that’s love for you. It’s a sucker’s game, and exactly why women don’t spark anything besides apathy from me—even ones with big brown eyes, wild curls, perky tits, and no sense of self-preservation.
I had to cultivate indifference when I came to Red Bridge because my life was a dumpster fire, and I needed desperately to put out the flames.
Though, some might argue that ending up in the back of a cop car in handcuffs for arson qualifies as worse than a dumpster fire. My sister Breezy would certainly agree, but I don’t waste my time hanging around in the past.
I’ve moved on from that part of my life, and there isn’t anyone or anything that will get in the way of that.
My biggest, most important priority makes sure of that.
6
Norah
Tuesday, August 3rd
A dark shadow hovers over me, and every muscle in my body locks on itself as I scream. Shrill and terror-ridden, the sound of my shout could shatter bulletproof glass, but my psychotic sister responds with only a laugh.
“Chill, it’s just me.”
My breathing is erratic as she shifts to the side and into the moonlight streaming in from the window of her guest room. I’m still drowsy, body heavy with sleep, but the power of her smirk compels me. I sit up quickly, dragging the sheet up over my air-chilled chest.
“What’s wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?”
Instead of speaking, she moves from the space in front of me, silently but with purpose, and I instantly know why when the bright overhead light pierces me directly in the eyeballs. An evil sister doesn’t warn a person before she gives them an instant migraine—she just does it.
I grimace and reach down to pull the comforter over my face. “This has to be the worst wake-up call I’ve ever experienced.”
“Yeah, well, I tried to be gentle, but since you still sleep harder than a bear during hibernation, I had to take a different approach,” my sister rebukes without guilt and yanks the comforter away from my face. “Rise and shine, buttercup. You have fifteen minutes to get dressed.”
“Dressed for what? A midnight thrill? Even the sun is still sleeping.”
“Camille called off this morning. I need a barista.”
I blink several times. “What are you even saying?”
“I’m saying it’s a little after five, and since I have to get the shop opened by six, you need to get your ass in gear.”
“You want me to come work at your coffee shop this morning?” My jaw nearly unhinges. “You tried almost impossibly hard to turn me away three days ago, and now you need me?”
“I need a body. And you need a bed to continue whining about waking up in. Seems like a match made in heaven, doesn’t it?”
CAFFEINE is Josie’s life’s biggest accomplishment. Which begs the question, why would she want me anywhere near it? I always got my coffee from someone other than myself in New York, and let me tell you, there was a reason.
“Josie, I know nothing about being a barista.”
“And I know nothing about having a squatter in my house. Looks like we’re both dealing with some challenges.”
“I can’t be a squatter when you invited me in.”
“Invited you?” She cackles. “You showed up unannounced at my front door with your designer suitcase that’s worth more than my car, looking like some vagabond fashionista and begging for a place to stay.”
Technically, Lillian’s suitcase is worth more than her car. I don’t have a suitcase. I don’t really own anything anymore, truth be told. But I have a feeling now is not the time to get into that.
“You owe me. Big-time. And that starts today, with you being my barista.”
I’ve only been here a few days, and besides her showing me the guest bedroom and handing me a bowl of leftover fettuccini for dinner on the first night I was here, we’ve barely spoken two words to each other. She’s even left the house multiple times without mentioning it to me. But before Josie’s and my great divide, she was there for me more than anyone I’ve ever known—Jezzy, my mom, my dad, and my grandmother included.
She’s right. I owe her. But taking this as payment is not in her best interest.
“Josie. Seriously.” I sit up enough to rest my back against the headboard. “I’m all for helping you out since you’re helping me out, but unless you have a Keurig at your coffee shop, I am not barista material. I don’t even drink coffee that often. I’ve always been more of a hot tea or cocoa kind of gal.”